2 AM
by Audrey V
Summary: Woody shows up late at Jordan's apartment and things get more than a little heated. Warnings: very light BDSM, lots of smut. Originally written in mid 2006.


Warning: This story is not for anyone under 18 or anyone who's uncomfortable with explicit sex between consenting adults. There's also some light (very light) S&M, so be warned all ye who enter here.

The water in the bathtub was a bit too hot, but she sank into it anyway, letting the mild scald sear away some of the filth of the day. After a certain amount of time, one gets used to the sight of corpses, but Jordan never had gotten used to having the smell of death in her hair. A long soak was exactly what she needed and the water had taken on a distinct chill before she forced herself to climb out of the tub.

She was brushing her teeth when she heard the knock. Lazily pulling on a bright, floral-patterned robe, she glanced through the peephole before opening the door.

"You could have just used your key," she grumbled more harshly than she intended.

"I don't like to."

"Yes, that much is obvious, isn't it?"

"You gave it to me for emergencies and this isn't—" She had turned away from him and he noticed, for the first time, that she wasn't exactly dressed for company.

"I'm sorry. It must be later than I—"

"It's 2:30. But I was still up."

"2:30. I should—"

"Go," she replied, before a slight smirk danced across her lips. "Because it's a well known fact that nothing good ever happens after two A.M."

"I was born at three-something."

"My point exactly." She was teasing him, he decided. On purpose. As always.

"You haven't asked me why I'm here," he said, taking a step toward her. She stood her ground, the smirk widening into a broad, toothy grin.

"No. I haven't."

"You should." Another step.

"Should I?" she responded. She hadn't realized that he was through with the games, he realized as he took another step.

"Ask me." Another step. One more and he'd have her pinned up against the wall. Unless she dodged.

"You've been drinking. You want some coffee?" she asked while simultaneously turning toward the kitchen. There was the dodge.

"I'm fine, thanks. And, yes. Just a little." He took the last step, ultra-casual as he countered and blocked her escape route, his body a breath away from hers. It would have been soon easy to step, even lean, a millimeter more. He resisted the urge, instead giving her a taste of her own medicine. The game. "Ask me why I'm here."

"What were you drinking?"

"Scotch. Now ask me."

"Fine, Woody. Why are you here?"

It was his turn to smirk as his hands found the belt of her robe. One swift pull and it fell open. He grasped her bare waist and pushed her back against the wall, the unexpected move prodding a gasp from her lips. He knew she didn't think he had it in him and he was determined to prove her wrong.

"Oh. I see," she said, the smirk returning. "The sweet, innocent farm boy thinks he can play with the big kids. You're here to prove yourself."

"No," he replied, narrowing the gap between them.

If she breathed too deeply, her bare nipples would have touched his gently rumpled cotton shirt. She tested the theory by inhaling sharply. The fabric was rougher than she'd expected. She admired him, just a little, for holding his ground.

"Then why are you here, Woody?" He was close—very close—and his hands gripped her waist a little more firmly.

"I'm here to fuck you senseless," he said, closing the gap between them in one step, trapping her between his body and the wall, eliciting another swift intake of breath. He looked down and found her eyes on his. It was the most off-balance he'd ever seen her, and he was finding that he liked being in control. _For once_, he thought.

"Look, Woody, it's, uh, late and I…" she stammered. Jordan wasn't sure where this new, powerful Woody had come from. He'd always been in control of suspects and perps, but he'd always seemed content to let her lead when it came to the two of them.

_Except when he turned you down_, she reminded herself. More than once she'd invited him in and every time she'd watched him wave as the elevator doors closed. Jordan felt herself growing angry as the memories flashed through her mind, and she pushed Woody away from her.

"Fuck you," she growled.

"What the hell?"

"You think you can just walk in here and demand to fuck me? You think that just because you've finally wrapped your brain around the idea of it that I'm still waiting around here, wanting you?"

"Well, there wasn't anyone else here tonight, so I figured there was a vacancy," he snarled, realizing even as the words were leaving his mouth that they were the exact wrong thing to say.

He'd barely finished his sentence when Jordan's right fist connected with his lower lip, splitting it cleanly open. Reflexively, he shoved her back against the wall, pinning both the offending wrist and its twin above her head.

"What is with you? In the space of three seconds you go from zero to completely pissed." His hands clenched around her wrists. She didn't give him the satisfaction of struggling against it. When she spoke, her voice was measured and cold.

"You don't get to decide that you want me now, after everything that's already happened. You don't get to stroll in here and pin me up against the wall because you've decided tonight's the night." She looked up at him, the expression on her face equal parts weary and cruel as her voice dropped to a seething whisper. "And you most certainly don't get to call me a whore when I turn you down."

They stood there, neither speaking, for a long moment. Her breaths were shallow and, other than his palms around her wrists, they did not touch. She felt him shift and, once again, bring his body into contact with hers. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against her neck before whispering in her ear.

"Let's cut the bullshit, Jordan. We've been getting in our own way for too long." His grip on her wrists loosened and she fought the impulse to struggle. He kissed her neck again. The gentleness of the act was a sharp contrast to the mood of the room and she found her body relaxing against the warmth of him.

"Let's just put it away," he said, letting his mouth trail from her neck to her collarbone, dropping her wrists in the process. Another kiss landed between her breasts and still another was left at her sternum. Jordan gasped sharply as his tongue touched one of her nipples, sending a slight shock through her body.

She ran her hands through his hair as he gently nipped at the tender flesh of first one, and then the other peak. A slow burn crept through her body, settling between her legs. All remnants of resistance crumbled and she let all logical thoughts and protests go, focusing instead on the way his touch was making her feel.

He stood in front of her, looking into her eyes as he pushed the robe off her shoulders. It fell to the floor and she shivered.

"Cold?" he asked.

"No," she replied as he leaned toward her, touching his mouth to hers. The kiss deepened until they were in danger of consuming one another, the years' worth of tension finally breaking apart. His hands tangled in her still-damp hair. He used his body to push her against the wall, the cool surface stinging the smooth skin of her back. By the time they parted, she was deeply flushed and they were both breathing heavily.

Without a word he began to kiss down her long neck. His warm mouth taunted her as it caressed her nipples. Her breath caught in her throat as he lightly bit the soft flesh of her stomach. His hands traced magic there as he knelt in front of her.

She moaned softly as he exhaled onto her inner thigh. She arched toward him, but he gently pushed her back toward the wall.

"Uh uh. Not after you've kept me waiting for years."

He ran his hands from her stomach, down past her center, to the sensitive flesh of her legs. His touch was gentle, yet firm, as his fingertips circled the most sensitive part of her body.

"Woody, please…" she growled. Jordan was not a woman used to taking anything slow. To her, slow implied cautious and she had no use for caution.

"Patience, Jo," he replied.

"I don't have much use for that either," she mumbled as his fingers brushed her dark pubic hair. "Don't make me beg, Farm Boy. I don't have it in me."

"I think you're full of surprises," he said, pushing two fingers into her abruptly. She cried out from the shock, a wave of pleasure running through her body. He began to move in and out of her, at first slowly and gently, then more insistently. She writhed against the wall, holding onto it for support. As she neared her climax, Woody abruptly stilled his movements, pulling away from her. Jordan gasped at the sudden loss.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he replied, kissing her again. "I'm just giving you a little of your own medicine." His hand brushed against her clitoris and she shuddered.

"Are you saying I'm a tease?"

"Are you saying that's a lie?" She looked up to see his broad grin. Two could play this game.

"No. I am a tease," she replied, beginning to unbutton his shirt. She smiled as she pulled it off of him, dropping it to the floor. His undershirt quickly followed and she pulled him to her, kissing him deeply.

The feel of her breasts against his skin was even more amazing than he'd remembered. He let his tongue dance with hers as his hands roamed her body. She pulled away, unbuckling his belt and pushing his jeans to the ground.

"Figured I should even the playing field," she said, pushing his boxer-briefs down to reveal his erection. She ran one hand up and down the length of him and it was his turn to gasp. "This is better, right?"

"Definitely. Better," he said, biting his lip as she sank to her knees in front of him. Luckily, Jordan was a bit more direct than he had been, lapping at the head of his penis a few times before wrapping her lips around him and taking him deep into her mouth.

He moaned her name, burying his hands in her hair. She alternated between deep-throating him and planting the lightest kisses along the tip. Woody knew he couldn't take much of her deft touch.

Just as he could feel his release nearing, she stopped and stood up. "How you doin'?" she asked, kissing him deeply.

Instead of answering, he knelt again and gently ran his tongue along her mound. He slipped it into her folds, snaking it around her clitoris, causing her body to buck against him. His fingers entered her again, their movements complementing those of his mouth. His free hand made its way around her body and his fingers dug into the flesh of her buttocks.

"Oh, God," she moaned. Her back arched and she pulled at his hair, tossing her head from side to side and mumbling incoherent sounds. He felt her clenching around his hand as she came, her body convulsing a dozen times before she finally stilled, slumping against the wall. He stood, stepping close to her, his hardness pressing against her thigh.

"You know, my name's Woody," he said softly, a wide smile spreading across his face. "But you can call me God if you want to."

She batted at him playfully and he caught her wrists again, pinning them above her head.

"No hitting," he whispered, rubbing his hard cock against her slit. "Next time, I'll hit you back."

"Next time I hope you do," she hissed in his ear, biting his earlobe. His grip on her wrists tightened and she wondered how she would explain away the bruises the next day. Another game, she thought, and began to struggle, attempting to wrest her hands from his.

"Be careful," he said, using his body to pin her to the wall. "Push too much and I might think you want to get away."

She shook her head. "Never," she gasped as he pushed into her. He filled her in one motion, then stilled. He kissed her gently on the mouth. Still pinning her hands above her head, he began to rock his body against hers, pulling almost completely out before penetrating her again. His pace was agonizingly slow, but Jordan could feel another climax building. This new dance was quicker, harder, and, ultimately, more satisfying. She looked at him, holding his eyes and crying out as she came, this time using his name instead of God's.

While her body was still quaking, he turned her around so she was facing the wall and thrust into her from behind. One of his hands found her center again as the other roughly caressed one of her nipples. Her moans were louder now, as he filled her again and again. She felt as though her knees might give out at any moment, yet she fought against her own release, hoping to prolong their passion as long as possible. As she came a third time, she felt him stiffen against her, groaning as his own orgasm hit. He pulsed inside of her for several moments as the sound of their ragged breathing filled the room.

He pulled out of her and she slumped against the wall, startled at the sudden emptiness. He took her in his arms, pulling her against his chest, their sweat mingling. She looked up at his face, suddenly aware of how much damage her fist had done.

"You're bleeding," she said softly.

"That's because you hit me," he replied good-naturedly. "You hit hard."

"For a girl, you mean."

"No, pretty much in general." He gingerly touched his lip. "It's not that bad."

She kissed the side of his mouth. "I think I can make it all better."

He took her hand, his fingers tracing the bruises that were already forming there. "Then I should probably get to work on these, huh?"

"How long had you been practicing that move, Farm Boy?"

"Which one?"

"The one you thought would lead to your fucking me senseless."

"Since the day we met, actually," he said. "Only in my head, of course."

"Too bad it didn't work," she teased.

"I think it's too soon to tell," he said. "It's still early."

He took her by the hand, chuckling as he led her toward the bedroom.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing important," Woody said, continuing to laugh quietly. "I guess you were wrong."

"About what?"

"That nothing good happens after two A.M."


End file.
